An Illusion
by biggerthanwhales
Summary: But I'm thinking of what Sarah said that "Love is watching someone die". When Quinn heard the song for the first time, it's the image of Rachel that enters her mind. A two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

[Two-shot] - Thank you for reading. Reviews are always appreciated. I'm posting the second part soon.

**1/2**

* * *

><p><em>But I'm thinking of what Sarah said that "Love is watching someone die".<em>

When Quinn heard the song for the first time, it's the image of Rachel that enters her mind. Then almost immediately, it also becomes apparent that for Rachel, it would probably be Finn Hudson.

_So who's gonna watch you die?_

She wonders… _who's going to watch her die?_

* * *

><p>It appears that no one would, just when it registers to her that a truck had slammed squarely against her car.<p>

* * *

><p>She wakes up to Rachel sleeping, loosely clutching her bandaged hand. Quinn spots the gold band around her finger, and prays to God that this girl hadn't committed herself to a lifetime of mistake.<p>

Out of desperation, she even haggles with God. He could take her life in exchange for not allowing Finn to take Rachel's.

* * *

><p>There's a satisfied smile on her face when Rachel finally heeds her advice. She watches from afar, as the brunette takes the ring off her finger. She frowns slightly when Rachel takes Finn's hand in one of her own, and places the ring gently on his palm. His face crumples, looking as if a nail's piercing into his skin instead.<p>

A part of Quinn feels disgusted at the fact this is making her heart flutter with hope. That seeing this happen makes her glad that she had a car accident on her way to a wedding that broke her heart.

_It's for her own good_, Quinn reasons out quietly.

Several minutes pass and Quinn eventually wheels herself out, effectively missing the final kiss between McKinley's dearest high school sweethearts. Quinn misses the tears that finally escapes Rachel's eyes as Finn lifts her just a little of the ground, clutching her tightly around the waist like he's never going to let her go.

* * *

><p>Kurt's the first to break the news accidentally during lunch.<p>

He gushes on and on about seeing some movie called 'Going the Distance', nodding at the brunette with excitement all throughout the bits that made him confident he'll make it through with Blaine. He only stops when everyone turns their heads towards Rachel—and all, except Quinn— cheers and expresses their approval.

Finn wanted to move to California after graduation. Apparently, he also wanted to keep Rachel. And even if she wanted to, Quinn couldn't blame him that he did.

Quinn doesn't even try to hide her surprise— as well as the hurt from the fact that Rachel kept it from her. Well, she kept it to herself, but Quinn assumed that even if their relationship is still quite shaky, it's at least above lack of trust.

* * *

><p>"Why didn't you tell me?" It comes out more demanding than Quinn had intended.<p>

Yet again, they have the bathroom to themselves, exchanging life-changing conversations over sinks and cubicles and the smell of disinfectant spray cleaner coating the tiled walls.

"Honestly, Quinn, now's not the perfect time." Rachel mumbles tiredly, taking her leave when Quinn quickly pushes herself between Rachel and the door.

"Move."

"Not until you tell me why you kept it a secret from me, the glee club-" The look on Rachel's eyes makes her stop mid-sentence. Brown eyes are hard and clear. Quite defensive, really, and Quinn's having a hard time letting herself inside.

"Quinn, please."

But Quinn wouldn't let up. Reaching behind her, she forcefully presses on the lock with her thumb.

"Rachel."

"Don't make me. I'm guilty enough to get nightmares of you crushed inside a wrecked car everyday, and—"

"What are you talking about?"

"It's you!" Rachel yells frantically, voice trembling to a magnitude. "I can't make decisions on my own anymore, without having to think of you. I knew that you're going to react negatively to my choice of continuing my relationship with Finn albeit long distance and this is what I want, but I'd probably deny myself this if you tell me not to do it."

Quinn gapes at her, having loss any coherent thoughts she had a few seconds ago.

"I know you're not trying to tell me what to do. That you only want to help as my friend, but..." "But everyday I regret not listening to you and almost getting married to Finn because it got you nearly killed and put you in a goddamn wheel chair."

"Rach..."

"I love Finn, I still want to marry him someday, and maybe this way it won't interfere with my dreams, right?"

* * *

><p>Everyone has the tendency to imagine the future the way they want it to be.<p>

They say it's called 'expectations' and that it comes out so naturally in human beings, having every potential to dampen their hopes when not met.

Quinn's no more than just another who fell into its promising quality. Several nights, she lay on her bed staring at the ceiling and seeing herself with Rachel. How Quinn would maybe invite her to dinner somewhere they've never been before and Rachel would just love it. Then maybe after they're finished with a delightful vegan dessert, she'd tell her.

She doesn't even think about the possibility of Rachel reacting negatively. It just…seems so plausible that maybe Rachel feels the same way.

So when graduation day comes, Quinn's smile for Finn's half-hearted, eyes betraying the warmth in her 'Congratulations'. She nearly says something else—something entirely resentful—when Rachel comes out of nowhere and tackles her into a clumsy (and a bit painful) hug. And just like that, everything else vanishes, except for the feeling of being this close to Rachel. Quinn tries not to breathe in too sharply, and listens as Rachel whispers a congratulation of her own for Quinn.

For Quinn.

Hazel eyes darts behind the brunette's head and she sees Finn who, by now, has gone five feet away to exchange well-wishes with the rest of the glee club. Quinn thinks of how much he has gained and been awarded for compared to herself. Look at what he's got, temporarily locked in Quinn's embrace.

Really, she finds all these salutations empty.

* * *

><p>Rachel's not the same. Quinn can't tell whether the transformation happened in New York or way before they even graduated from high school.<p>

It's just... Rachel's more distant. She still rambles and talks for hours, except she seems more contained, making Quinn feel like Rachel's constantly leaving out bits and pieces from her stories. She could still go on endlessly and annoy the people around her with her big words but they rarely have anything to do with her life.

They've manage to keep in touch because it's easy. More often than not, it's Quinn who makes the effort of traveling those miles to Rachel's dorm just so she could spend a few hours with her. Their activities commonly involves cooking a range of vegan dishes that Rachel had been craving for all week, and Quinn's more than happy to do just that.

Quinn's absolutely more than happy to just finally be with her. Her days are slow, as she counts them one by one until the day arrives where she gets to ride the train to Julliard.

"Go for Fabray." Quinn greets over the receiver. She likes it every time she has to pick up Rachel's cellphone when the brunette's busy in the kitchen. It makes their friendship much more… _intimate_ to Quinn. Like things could easily belong to Rachel, just as they belong to her.

"Quinn?"

She goes rigid when she immediately recognizes the caller.

"Finn."

"I-is Rachel there?"

She doesn't tell Finn to wait up, just mechanically walks up to Rachel to hand her the phone.

Their routine manages to survive for the first year and Quinn still wants more.

But Rachel's status everywhere still enlists her as being in a relationship with Finn Hudson of Los Angeles, California.

She hears from Rachel that he's doing very well in both his studies and football, mentioning how he's made it to first string.

Other than that, Rachel doesn't talk much about her boyfriend, to Quinn's relief. But it also doesn't make her feel any better because for the first time, it occurs to her that they might just never break up.

* * *

><p>Except they did.<p>

Rachel shows up one night, carrying an overnight bag, as she tearfully informs Quinn that she and Finn have broken up.

For good— because in three months time, they're going to find out that he's getting engaged to an aspiring model and high school drop-out.

"Can I stay here for awhile?"

Quinn nods and takes her in, holding her by the shoulders as she leads her to bed. They fall asleep with Rachel's head tucked under her chin, and Quinn's arms wrapped tightly around the tiny brunette. Rachel clings to her shirt, as if her life depended on Quinn.

Rachel feels smaller this way. All five-foot-two of her, even more reduced into something Quinn wants to protect and never allow to hurt.

Rachel's finally single, free. And Quinn utterly stands a chance.

No, she doesn't feel like rejoicing at all.

* * *

><p>Rachel refuses to talk about it. Quinn would occasionally check if she's ready to, but Rachel only dismisses her with a smile and an assurance that she'll be fine with just letting it go.<p>

* * *

><p>"Why don't you get a boyfriend, you sophisticated gorgeous…"<p>

Rachel's adjectives go on for some time, drunkenly slurring the words so Quinn barely understands them anymore. Quinn arrived five hours ago for an impromptu sleepover at Rachel's dorm and what immediately greeted her at the front door's a warm kiss on her cheek and two bottles of red wine.

"What are we celebrating?" Quinn asks.

Rachel merely shrugs her shoulders and gives her a playful wink that surges a dangerous current all over Quinn's body.

And now, lying on her side, she hazily traces the contours of Rachel's face with her pinky, not bothering to think that somehow, the lines are starting to blur.

"Quinn, you're not even listening to me!"

Quinn laughs when Rachel tugs at lose blonde locks dangling in front of her eyes. "What were you saying again?"

"I'm saying, why don't you get a boyfriend, you crazy, flawless—"

"Okay, enough with the silly compliments—thank you very much. But I don't really get your question."

"Why don't you have a man, Fabray?" Rachel's voice drops, as she scoots closer to Quinn's touch. "No one's good enough for you back at Yale?"

"I'm not…" She debates over revealing her sexuality to Rachel but god, they're drunk and in Rachel's tiny bed and practically cuddling. "I'm not really interested in guys. I haven't been in a long time." Quinn finishes coyly.

There's a weird expression on Rachel's face, before it switches to a knowing grin, and raising an eyebrow she says, "Okay then. Why don't you have a woman, Fabray?"

Mother of god, she's going to be the death of Quinn, isn't she? The strong scent of liquor wafts in between them, with every breath that escapes their lips.

_Because it's always been you. Because you ruined everyone for me. Because I don't think I will ever get into an accident again while on my way to attend the wedding of the woman I love…_

Quinn has no idea how to put it in a way that wouldn't sound too cheesy.

In the end, she decides to speak with action rather than words.

* * *

><p>She comes twice that night—first on Rachel's fingers, then on her tongue.<p>

Her mouth's on Rachel's shoulder blades as soon as she recovers. She hovers on top of the girl she's loved for years, setting all her weight on her arms and legs, being careful and gentle. She's waited far too long for this— it won't be anything but perfect.

"Rach, baby, tell me what you want…" She whispers against tan skin, tongue flicking out to taste, to memorize texture and feel. Quinn licks at the base of her throat before peppering small kisses to her chest and it feels amazing that she gets to do this to Rachel, more than her last two orgasms.

Fuck, this is what she's gone without, all those years?

"Rach, let me," Quinn starts to say, her right hand moving lower, seeking out that warmth and—

"Go to sleep, Quinn." Rachel murmurs thickly.

"But…"

A smaller hand grips her wrist.

"I'm tired."

Quinn swallows hard and nods. She lets Rachel roll onto her side, facing away from her.

Quinn Fabray prays again, and this time she's pleading that Rachel won't regret this in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Thanks so much for the comments, the alerts and the faves. It really inspired me to write more Faberry in the future. Here's the second part. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>By the time Quinn wakes up, the other side of the bed is already cool. She's lying straight on her back, arms on her sides, and sheets barely covering her lower half. She feels exposed—not from her obvious nakedness but from the memory of baring everything she could bare to Rachel last night.<p>

"Sleep well?" Quinn hears, unable to clearly read the brunette's tone at all.

"Yeah, it was freezing though." She responds, eyes fixated at the window. It's a beautiful day outside.

The bed dips, and then there's a warm hand cupping her face. Quinn finally gathers enough courage to look at Rachel, and sees the brunette already dressed in yesterday's clothes. Rachel gently palms her flushed cheek, a thumb stroking the corner of her chapped lips.

And she wants to believe this is all out of pure _affection, _not_ guilt. _Quinn gulps audibly, willing tears not to well up in her eyes. "Last night…"

"…was something else entirely." Rachel suggests softly.

Quinn pushes herself off the bed, leaning on her left arm for support as she faces Rachel. "But what does it mean?"

"We slept together and it felt good. Didn't you enjoy last night?"

Quinn sits up fully, confidence rushing in when Rachel has the good grace to blush as she leans in with purpose. If she failed to make herself clear last night, then she'd gladly make Rachel understand over and over. Quinn tilts her head and kisses Rachel, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, as she shows Rachel how last night meant so much more than just something she could _enjoy_. It takes a few seconds, but Rachel's finally returning her kisses with equal ardor and Quinn interprets this as an answered prayer.

"I know it's only been a few weeks since you've broken up with F—" Quinn stops herself from mentioning his name when she sees Rachel's eyes harden a little. "Him. But Rach, I…"

Maybe it's not yet the right time to say it aloud, maybe—

"I could love you better, Rach. I-I love you. Always have." It's the one promise Quinn Fabray's confident enough to keep. She's never had anything that lasted this long. She's absolutely sure it's never going away. Rachel just needs to see it.

They stare at each other quietly. Quinn finds her self searching for something hidden in those chocolate orbs, until the brunette nods and lets Quinn pull her back towards the mattress.

And Quinn loves on her much more than her promise.

* * *

><p>It isn't something she can call a relationship.<p>

Yet.

Rachel hasn't told her back anything other than things like "I care a lot about you" or "you're my best friend, Quinn". More than a month has gone by where Rachel would return her kisses, her touch, her calls.

But not the 'I love you' Quinn constantly drops whenever they say goodbye after a weekend spent together. Rachel always gives her an appreciative smile though, plants a sweet peck on her lips and wishes her good luck with everything, asks Quinn to send her a text as soon as she gets home safely.

Still, from time to time Quinn would bring up the subject of their rather complex more-than-friends-less-than-lovers association.

What were they? Quinn usually forgets that it matters whenever Rachel's in close proximity. But upon going back to her world, miles of distance from Rachel, it's the one thought that consumes her.

"I don't know," Rachel would only shrug, her expression lacking any sort of tension that Quinn's sure she's helplessly losing her mind over. "Let's just be whatever we'll be."

Sometimes, Quinn would push it, only to surrender when Rachel deliciously shoves her tongue inside her mouth.

* * *

><p>Rachel loves getting mails. Quinn knows this from spending countless afternoons watching the frantic diva as she rips them open one by one, and reading them out loud to Quinn.<p>

"It's practice," Rachel would say. "I've been told by my teachers that people from the business can easily spot talent by merely listening to a good read-through."

So when Quinn offers to check her mailbox, she's surprised be handed with a bundle of them. It appears Rachel's been putting off to deal with them for several weeks now.

"I can't believe you let these pile up." Quinn comments nonchalantly, depositing a stack of letters on the breakfast bar.

"Been busy," Rachel mumbles distractedly, carefully placing the final touches on their vegan red velvet. Quinn moves behind her and slowly wraps her arms around Rachel's waist. She softly kneads the taut stomach beneath her palms, and lets her mouth graze delicately against Rachel's earlobe.

"I wonder what's gotten you so preoccupied these days." Quinn husks and continues her gentle assault on the span of skin available to her.

"You mean _who_."

"Me?" Quinn playfully nips at her neck—bites over here and there, which Rachel hardly responds to. The smaller girl's usually ticklish. Quinn's discovered various spots on her body that has her squirming right away. But nothing goes against Rachel Berry's unyielding concentration skills.

"Mmm…"

"Mmm… indeed," Quinn moans in approval.

"Quinn, what's that?"

She feebly looks up from slender neck and follows Rachel's line of sight, until it lands squarely on an attractive white envelope.

"No idea. Looks like an invitation to me."

Rachel releases herself from Quinn's hold and proceeds to pick up the object of her interest. Flipping it over, she inspects for an address, but finds nothing in there. Without further ado, Rachel tears the side of the envelope and takes out a card boldly shimmering in gold.

"You are cordially invited to the wedding of Finn Hudson and—"

Quinn listens to Rachel's voice break and immediately crosses the small gap between them.

"Rachel…"

It's petrifying to make a move, to put an arm around the person she loves when she feels it won't do anything much. Finn's become a thing of a past, which they both agreed silently to never bring up again.

And now it takes a piece of paper to dismantle them.

For a few minutes, there's an atmosphere of just silence. And then—

_Ding!_

Rachel perks up and gives Quinn a smile as she announces, "Dinner's ready!"

Quinn expected anything but _this _kind of reaction. She also never thought this would be the most unnerving of all.

* * *

><p>"I always thought you were delusional, Q, but I never pegged you at all for an idiot." Santana crosses her arms, wearing a grimace that gives the impression that she might just knock Quinn hard on the head anytime soon.<p>

And she probably would before the day is over.

"Be nice, San." Brittany says, squeezing Quinn's shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry much about her, Q. I'm sure she'll be back and you're going to have awesome welcome-home sex—"

"Thanks, B." Quinn smiles tightly.

Rachel flew out of New York the other day, mumbling something about a field trip Quinn's only heard of an hour before she left.

It's Finn.

Quinn had to ask for the details of her flight but Rachel had told her that one of her classmates had kept all their tickets.

"_When will you be back?"_

"_We expect to arrive at exactly 3:45 on Thursday. Hey, maybe you can come pick me up?"_

_Of course she would._

"_I'll be there."_

"_I'll try to call, okay?'_

"_Okay." Quinn's barely keeping herself from falling to her knees and pleading for Rachel to stay. Because a return ticket to New York isn't a promise she'd be back. Because she doesn't trust Finn, she doesn't trust that Rachel—_

"_Be safe," Her voice might've faintly cracked, but if it actually did, Rachel missed it. "I love you."_

_A smile. A hug. And then she's gone._

"Were you able to do what I told you to do last time?"

She shakes her head, trying to recall what exactly it was about.

"_Dios mio, _fucking draw the lines already or I will."

Quinn whips her head towards Santana and grits her teeth. "You're not going to talk to her."

She smirks at venom in Quinn's words. "That finally got you riled up."

"Santana's right, you know?" Brittany interjects softly. "You need to discuss with Rachel what's going on between you guys."

"I'm—" Quinn steadily breathes. "I just don't want to scare her off. What if my impatience—"

"You told her you fucking love her—"

"Language, San."

"—you love her, and she kept you around without any Kind of commitment. And now she flew to L.A for, guess what, that giant oaf. Clearly, she doesn't need you to do something for her to runaway. Rachel's a goer."

"Or you know, Rachel went there for a really important field trip." Brittany offers kindly.

* * *

><p>Quinn can't sleep for the rest of the week. Not until Rachel returns.<p>

Rachel doesn't call. But that's okay. She only said she'd try.

Four more days. Three more nights. Goddamn patience. She's never felt the comfort in waiting.

It doesn't help that she keeps on seeing Rachel, visiting Finn the night before his wedding. She keeps seeing Finn, realizing his mistake and getting her back.

Quinn shakes off further thoughts that threaten to drive her to insanity, and focuses on the fact that Rachel's asked to see her when she arrives.

And that's exactly what's going to happen.

Sometimes love's about having a positive attitude even when all signs encourage otherwise.

* * *

><p>A sea of faces greets Quinn when she arrives at the JFK airport on a Tuesday. But she easily spots Rachel, and she doesn't waste any time taking her back into her arms.<p>

Quinn buries her face in thick brown locks, inhaling the scent she'll recognize anywhere.

"I love you." Quinn whispers brokenly against a much-missed ear. She holds on for dear life, clutching Rachel's shoulders tightly, like this embrace is going to be their last.

And when Rachel finally says it back, it's still far from how Quinn had dreamt it to be.

* * *

><p>One night when they're just laying together and waiting for sleep to take them, it's Rachel who asks the question.<p>

"Do you ever see yourself getting married?"

"Sometimes…" Quinn answers carefully, trying to calm her beating heart because this _Rachel_ and they've never even talked about what this would look like six months from now.

"How old would you be?"

_We could get married now. _"It doesn't really matter."

"Come on," Rachel urges on. "Give me a number."

"Twenty-five?"

"Really? Why?"

"I don't recall needing to explain" Quinn says teasingly. "Well, how about you?"

_Thump, thump._ She can practically hear her jumping under her skin.

"I don't know." It comes out small and uncertain.

A pause.

"Who do you see yourself marrying?"

And then every system inside Quinn's body stops. She bites her lip and releases a ragged breath.

"You, mostly."

In the darkness, she feels Rachel entwine their fingers. She wants to ask Rachel the same question again.

Only, the most probable answer frightens her so.

* * *

><p>It turns out that success doesn't always come in a form of one's preference. Rachel's struggling to find opportunities, while Quinn's out there, trying not to get drowned by offers. She makes an effort to subdue them, but it's difficult now that they're married.<p>

Sometimes it makes her wonder if any of it was real. She's the one who got to marry Rachel Berry. Quinn unmistakably remembers the look on Santana's face at the wedding. She recalls her wife's firm 'no', when she mentions if they should invite her former boyfriend who is now also making a life of his own as a professional football player.

But like other marriages, they have their ups and downs, and areas in between where Quinn doesn't quite know whether or not she's sleeping on the couch for the night. These areas—where Quinn's reaching out blindly, grasping for something to hold onto when it feels like Rachel isn't there.

Rachel is struggling, and sometimes she tunes out everything around her, including Quinn.

It's understandable that after a lack of feedback from various auditions, her wife's doubling her efforts. Which means Rachel's not home until late at night. Sometimes she doesn't arrive until morning. Quinn used to wait for her before going to bed, up until Rachel requested that she doesn't. She captures Quinn's protest with her lips, mumbling that she needs to know that her wife's getting all the rest she needs.

"You're already working too hard, worry about yourself instead of me."

Somehow, she begins to suspect what any spouse would in this kind of situation, but Quinn refuses to doubt the brunette.

She constantly offers to recommend Rachel to some of her friends from Yale's School of Drama, that had made it big in Broadway but the brunette won't take it.

"Don't you have confidence in me anymore, Fabray?" She'd lightly tease the blonde.

Sometimes it's all too much—the way Rachel would handle things like this so flippantly. "I do. I'm so proud of you."

But then Rachel would surprise her when out of no where, her eyes would grow serious, gripping Quinn's gaze with intensity.

"Then you should trust that I can make it on my own."

* * *

><p>The long-awaited break of Rachel's career arrives one morning through a phone call. It wakes up Quinn's sleeping ears, while Rachel hastily exits their bedroom, skipping a step or two as she heads towards the kitchen.<p>

"Sweetie?" She calls out, lethargically rubbing at the corner of her eyes with a finger.

Rachel ignores her, smiling all throughout the conversation, occasionally nodding and laughing. She's never been that bubbly around Quinn.

For some reason, it makes Quinn lucid enough to hurt.

When she gets off the phone, she turns to the blonde, still wearing the brightest smile Quinn's seen in awhile.

"I've been invited to join Lyric Hammersmith and they're offering to give me a supporting role for their latest production to open this fall. I know it's not Broadway… but, Quinn!"

"Congratulations, baby!" Quinn applauds, kissing Rachel on the cheek. "So where's this theater company located again?"

Rachel visibly falters at the question.

"London," She replies. "England.'

The smile from Quinn's lips dies down in an instant, and she puts some distance between their bodies when she asks, "When are you leaving?"

"Two days from now."

It's going to be their worst fight in eleven months of marriage.

* * *

><p>"I'll come with you."'<p>

"You can't leave, Quinn. You have your career, and you're doing so well—"

"Quit lying to me, Rachel!"

"What do you mean? And will you please stop yelling? The neighbors might hear—"

"Just say it."

"I-I don't understand what you're talking about."

"You don't want me to come with you."

A heavy sigh— like a huge weight finally unloading, and then—

"No, I don't."

* * *

><p>Rachel's gone for three months now. No calls. No emails. No…. nothing.<p>

Quinn bitterly wonders if she's still even alive. Quinn doesn't know which one she's waiting for—her wife or the divorce papers she's sure to follow after she left an ultimatum on Rachel's answering machine.

Quinn opens a bottle of wine— her nights are rarely without them now. She opens one of Rachel's playlist on her computer, and stumbles upon "What Sarah Said".

She can't remember when she last heard the song.

She floats along with the music and this time, she's not thinking much of Rachel anymore.


End file.
